Chapter 991

“The South, where the people I must protect live, is what matters most. Just as the Cavalry taught me.”

With those words, Mayra looked at Yuder, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

“...Baron Aile. When I heard that you hadn’t come up from the deep sea for over a day, I kept wondering how anyone could go that far for the sake of others. I’m truly glad you returned safely. And... thank you.”

“......”

“I’ll also express my gratitude during the succession ceremony, but since that will be a formal setting on behalf of the entire South, I wanted to say it now, while it can still feel personal. I hope I didn’t overstep.”

When Yuder turned his head without thinking, he locked eyes with Kishiar, who was smiling as if he'd just heard the most delightful sound in the world. Looking back at Mayra, who seemed slightly flushed and awaited his response, Yuder thought for a moment before answering.

“No. I don’t think what happened that day was something I accomplished alone, so I don’t believe I deserve thanks like this... But since we were able to prevent a major disaster in the end, that’s enough for me.”

“You truly... believe that?”

Mayra murmured in surprise, then smiled.

A moment later, she grabbed her dress hem and respectfully knelt, the formal gesture of expressing deep reverence. For someone about to become a duchess to bow to someone of far lower status was completely unexpected. Murmurs rose among the southern nobles watching from afar, but she paid them no mind.

“I’ll be sure to extend my gratitude to the others who helped the South during the succession ceremony. So please don’t worry about that. I, Mayra el Hern, will never forget your name, Baron Aile, nor the Cavalry. I will remember you both as eternal benefactors.”

Yuder was suddenly reminded of his past life.

After the devastating Southern Earthquake, when the South was damaged beyond repair, Empress Mayra never attempted to leave the Dawn Palace again. According to rumors, she had gone completely mad, always dressed in black mourning clothes, never speaking to anyone.

Seeing that very same person now, vividly alive, thanking him for saving the South... it was a strange feeling.

Perhaps even stranger than the moment he became sure the great earthquake would never occur again. No—maybe even more than that.

Why? Was it because he regretted not paying attention to someone who could become like this in his previous life?

“You’ve seemed deep in thought ever since the lady's thanks. Is something bothering you?”

In the carriage on the way back to the branch, Kishiar asked gently.

“No, not really bothering... It just made me think of the past a little. Felt strange.”

“The past? You mean your ‘previous game’?”

“Yes.”

Kishiar, who had already heard bits about Mayra from Yuder’s former life, probably understood what he was thinking. He hummed softly, then smiled.

“I’m not the lady, so I can’t say for certain—but I think I have a rough idea of how it feels to have someone remember you for a long time, and for your actions to change their life without you even knowing.”

Because Kishiar himself had experienced it.

His crimson eyes seemed to say exactly that.

“Even after I found out how things ended in the ‘previous’ one, that feeling never changed. If anything, I felt even more grateful.”

“......”

“So don’t feel weird or burdened by people thanking you. You’ve done more than enough to deserve it.”

Guided by the hand that gently wrapped around his shoulder, Yuder leaned his head over. He didn’t really know what it would feel like for Mayra, but as Kishiar said, his heart felt a little lighter.

And that was enough.

***

The day finally arrived when the new Duke Hern would hold her succession ceremony in front of all.

Originally, House Hern’s main estate was located in the city of Hersha, close to the desert. However, Mayra decided to hold the ceremony not there, but at the Sharloin villa where she had stayed until now.

The gates of Sharloin, which had been almost entirely closed since the day of the hail and the Wall of Blue Despair, were now flung open. People who had eagerly awaited the day since receiving invitations began pouring in by carriage.

“I thought the area wasn’t even fully restored yet... but look.”

“Look at the uniforms of those guarding the gates. That’s the Imperial Guard, isn’t it?”

“Good heavens. A succession ceremony guarded by the Imperial Guard? I’ve never seen anything like this.”

The Imperial Guard had arrived to support security and restoration in Sharloin. Their solemn presence shocked all who saw them. No one knew exactly how they had arrived, but the fact that the famously haughty knights—usually stationed only in the capital—had come all the way here greatly softened the anger of many southern nobles. Their ornate uniforms even became a major topic among commoners.

Banners bearing the Hern family crest and the Imperial flag of Orr hung throughout the streets. Merchants offered special discounts just for today, and children laughed gleefully as they ran through the roads, clutching sweets handed out by House Hern.

“Eternal blessings to the new Duke Hern!”

At the same time, multiple carriages bearing the emblem of the Cavalry arrived in unison before the villa where the ceremony was to be held.

“The Cavalry has arrived!”

Amid murmurs, the carriage doors opened and those dressed in white formal uniforms stepped out, one by one.

All eyes turned toward them, but the members of the Cavalry—already seasoned by the celebration held in the capital—remained unshaken by this level of attention. They lined up with calm dignity, and from between their ranks emerged a strikingly tall figure.

A face unfamiliar to most, but for any citizen of the Orr Empire, the vivid crimson eyes, radiant blond hair, and overwhelmingly arresting beauty left no room for doubt.

“The Duke of Peleta has appeared.”

At that moment, the chattering ceased. Even the curious gazes dimmed. He wore a traditional southern-styled deep green cloth draped over both arms, pleated and trailing elegantly down his back. The crest of the royal family, the Duke of Peleta, and the Cavalry Commander’s insignia decorated his chest in perfect harmony, exuding dignified presence.

Those who had forgotten decorum and gawked in silence finally found their voices.

“Good heavens... When ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) they said his beauty was unmatched on the continent, they weren’t exaggerating...”

“Is that all? Isn’t he now also the wielder of the Divine Sword? A newly risen Swordmaster.”

“You can just barely see the sword at his waist. That must be the Divine Sword, Orr.”

No one dared speak ill of the man now. Everyone in this place knew that thanks to the Cavalry and the Duke of Peleta’s new legend, they had survived.

Kishiar la Orr wore an elegant smile, as if none of the murmurs reached him, conversing with someone beside him. The watchers grew increasingly curious, as the atmosphere between them was oddly close—too familiar for just subordinate and superior.

Eventually, the person obscured by the Duke’s tall frame and broad back came into view.

“Oh...”

He was a man with neatly swept black hair, a composed impression. Even standing next to someone of such overwhelming stature, his posture was so upright that he didn’t appear particularly small—in fact, he was taller than most of the other men present.

His eyes, dark and sunken in a way that mere “black” couldn’t quite describe, and the cold shadows cast by his gaze gave people an indescribably strange impression. He looked perfectly at home in such formal surroundings—like someone born for high status—but there was also something about his eyes that conjured the image of a blood-soaked, depraved back alley.

Perhaps it was the pale skin under the midday sun, the faint coloring of his lips, or the black gloves covering both hands.

He wore a uniform nearly identical to Kishiar’s, but with key accents in black rather than gold. Someone called out to him.

“Yuder!”

As he turned his head, those who had been secretly watching him jolted in recognition.

“Yuder? Yuder Aile? The one who went underwater for a whole day?”

“That’s... really him? That’s Yuder Aile? Then...”

Some people began recalling the more indecent rumors that had spread about him and the Duke of Peleta. But now, seeing him in person—and how different he was from the image they'd imagined—left them stunned.

Still, such people were in the minority. Far more were whispering in awe about the hero who had saved the South.

“Alright, let’s head in.”

At Kishiar’s command, the Cavalry members moved in perfect coordination. Yuder walked beside him, overhearing the murmuring voices around them.

“Hey, that’s Ever Beck. The Cavalry Deputy Commander! I heard a monument is being erected for them.”

“Then the ones beside them must also be the deputies? I heard the Cavalry has three Deputy Commanders...”

“Kachien Bollenvalt must be here too, right?”

“Kurga Sing!”

“Do you think that Awakener who made the forest—Marin—showed up? There are too many people to tell...”

Previously, most people only saw the Cavalry as a unit. At most, attention went to Kishiar himself, and after the Western operation, a few began to take interest in Yuder Aile as well.

It seemed similar this time—but upon closer observation, the atmosphere had definitely changed. Wherever the Cavalry members walked, people approached regardless of their status. Some called out names. Some waved.

Considering most of them were nobles, it was truly a surprising sight.